You and I will never collide,
by R.G Charleoui
Summary: or will we? Minako/HamukoxMinato drabble.


She was running quicker than the wind, her nightgown fluttering in the light wind, glinting silver skies and blue seas. Her feet raced before the cool pavement, her limbs moved quickly, smoothly. She showed no sign of exhaustion, despite having run nearly a mile right after she just woke up. She didn't have the time to tie her hair up in a pony tail so that too was caught in the wind – a chocolate fiery halo.

When she had woken, she had woken up with a thought that made her _run_. She dashed to the second floor and burst through his door to no avail. She flung herself on his floor and wrenched open his drawers. None. Not one single article of clothing left. Not one single object left that even suggested that he would come back. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror – frightened red eyes stared right back at her that taunted.

_He didn't even say goodbye_, they seemed to sneer.

Then she was up again and running downward and flinging open the door to bright sunshine, never really bothering to close the dorm.

She caught the train to Portland Station just in time and that left her disoriented. She had run so fast she forgot to take into account that the monorail was far too slow for her lifestyle. The doors slid with a hiss and she plopped in a seat next to an elderly woman and a boy about seventeen with hair as blue as her dress. A business man in a crisp suit across her stared at her in open fascination and she suddenly became self-conscious. She crossed her legs and tucked the silk underneath her thighs, trying to appear docile. But that was futile. The dress, she decided, was too short.

Of course, she had worn it that night with the thought that he might at least go to sleep with her that night. He really liked seeing her in short dresses for some reason. Perverted as it may sound to other ears, she found it quite endearing. She had not taken into account that he would _not_ sleep with her and that she _would_ be taking a jog.

This left her feeling very angry for what he has done and embarrassed that she had done this so impulsively. She should have at least added a coat or a scarf or even _slippers_ to her attire. Before she could ponder on his lack of feelings for her, her lack of common sense or her lack of clothes thereof, a tap on her shoulder yanked her out of her rather gnarled mind.

The boy beside her looking decidedly seventeen handed her a blue scarf – probably out of his own attire – without looking up from his lap. She could faintly see a pink tint on his cheeks but his blue locks shifted and his face was hidden out of view. He wore the Gekkoukan uniform, she notes later on.

"You look cold," he explained.

She was suddenly filled with a warm appreciation for this stranger boy who had just shown her the kindness she would likely offer herself were she in the right conditions to do so.

She took the scarf feeling grateful – and admittedly a little cold – and wound it twice around her neck, feeling like she was swallowed by some blue furry creature.

"Thanks," she mumbles, gratified, and feeling a little blush creep up her frosty cheeks.

"So," he faces her and she is met with icy blue eyes. "Are you sleep-walking or something?"

She looks down sheepishly at her clothes – or lack of underclothes, she notices again, and feeling a new kind of heat flashing up her skin – and attempted to smile. At least she wore panties. "No. I actually slept late today which puts me in kind of a pinch."

"Pinch?"

"Well," she checks the boy again, wondering if she could tell a stranger her woes. It seemed to her as if their roles were reversed and that he was supposed to be telling his life stories and for her to be the one listening. I mean, that was what they always do when they see her. She looks at him more closely and sighs. "I need to say goodbye."

His eye brows rose up. "To whom?"

She twiddled her fingers together as if trying to restrain them from pulling her hair out. "To someone special." She said simply.

"Ah. What is he your boy friend or something?"

Her lips quirk up into a smile. "And you assume it's a boy?"

He squints and then nods. "So you're a lesbian then?"

"Please!" She found herself laughing. "If someone says _someone special_ does that always mean a boy friend or girl friend? What if I tell you they were my parents?"

"Well if you say that I wouldn't believe you. Besides. People don't normally wake up and then run _immediately_ after waking up _just_ to say good bye to parents – in people's nightgowns."

She shifted in her seat. "Is it wrong then to be such a family girl?" she said grandly, finding it ironic.

"I wouldn't know. My parents died when I was little."

All her face registered was shock. Then, she immediately recognized him as a kindred spirit. She not only felt his pain. She felt hers too. They were the same. Orphans to this world. Abandoned by their blood families like they were broken old toys.

She breaks eye contact. "Mine are too." She laced up her trembling lips with a smile, hoping to take the conversation back to witty again. "My boy friend. I'm saying good bye to him. He's off to college leaving little old me by my lonesome."

He follows her lead. "He must be really special."

She smiles sadly. "I'll miss him so much. I'll be sad without him. But not enough to kill myself in frustration." She laughed and stood up. She held out her hand.

"This is my stop." He takes her hand and he wonders why they are so warm…so homely…so…_familiar_.

She turns around and breezes on by.

"Wait!" he called after her. "What's your name?"

She looks back at him from her shoulder. "Minako, yours?"

There was a moment of silence and then his face breaks into a large smile. His lips move –

But she is off and running again and she probably doesn't hear his name that chases after her futilely while the wind carried it off and off until it is only invisible particles and the letters are forever lost to her ears.


End file.
